


Backseat Bumps

by Infinite_Vibrance (gindokiis)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Date Night, Drabble, Kisses, M/M, Movie Night, Oneshot, Public Sex, horny bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gindokiis/pseuds/Infinite_Vibrance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are we about to have public sex right now?" Marco asked.<br/>"Quite possibly yes." Jean replied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backseat Bumps

**Author's Note:**

> Apart of the 30 Day OTP Challenge I'm working on with various OTPs. You can find some of the other fics featured in this challenge [here](http://fanstarkingtastic.tumblr.com/tagged/;30%20day%20otp%20challenge).

Jean had been pacing around his bedroom for a good thirty minutes. T-shirts and pants were strewn all across his room. Eren was sitting amongst the chaos, utterly amused. He gave his inappropriate comments when they weren’t needed, and sassed Jean whenever he tried to tell him that his comments weren’t helpful. 

"I don’t know why you’re being so bitchy.  _You_ asked me to come over, dude.”

"No!" Jean pulls out yet another shirt, scowls , and chucks it on the floor. Nothing was  _working_. “ _You_ barged into my room. Complained about wanting some of my mom’s pot pie. Then made a pillow fort on my bedroom floor and stole all my comic books.”

Eren’s lips tilted into a smirk. “Oh yeah.  _That_ was fun. I’m still hungry as fuck, though, so can you fast forward through your midlife crisis please?”

"I’m not having a midlife crisis!"

"Yes, you are. Over something really stupid. Marco doesn’t  _care_ what you look like. It’s a movie. You’re going to a  _drive in movie theater._ You don’t have to walk out there in your suit and tie. Again, _Marco_.” Eren stresses because he’s pretty damn sure half his words hadn’t penetrated the thick skull surrounding Jean’s pea-sized brain.

Ha, he made two insults in one sentence. #GoJaeger.

Jean growls, currently standing in nothing but his boxers with his hands on his hips and his frustration increasing in waves. He got was Eren was saying. He really did. Because really this was Marco, and Marco thought he looked great in everything—well, except for that one time Jean thought he could pull off corduroy but we do not speak of that incident. 

And Eren was, Jean begrudgingly accepted, correct. They were just going to see a movie, nothing too major. It was a spur of the moment decision on Marco’s part. He had been reading the paper this morning—because he actually likes the articles, Jean only reads world updates and sports—and spotted a promotion for the drive in movie theatre. It was apparently opened all this week and had nightly specials on specific genres of movies.

Friday night was showcasing old horror movies like Frankenstein and Dracula—you know, the classics. Jean knew the minute Marco brought up the idea, that sly look in his face and his smile all  _fucking pretty_ , that he was already sold on whatever idea Marco was concocting.

Which leads him to his dilemma of here, Friday night, standing in his room in a pair of Calvin Kleins not knowing what the fuck to do with himself.

Finally, Eren rolled his eyes and got out of his super awesome pillow fort. He surveyed the chaos with mild apathy, green eyes perusing the scene. He went out, picked up a fairly clean light blue sweater, khakis, and white vans. He threw them at the idiot in boxers and smirked. “There, problem solved. Now  _get me food_.”

Jean caught the clothes with a stumble, looked down, and realized with a sickening sort of feeling that Eren had actually… picked out nice choices. 

"Fuck you, Jaeger." he muttered, putting on the clothes.

Eren scoffed. “Not my job tonight, bottom bitch.  _Food_.” he stresses again because, like mentioned before, thick skull small brain. 

Jean threw him a box of animal crackers which, Eren realized, was probably the only thing Jean was going to get for him.

Well, beggars can’t be choosers. 

* * *

 

An hour later Jean’s at Marco Bodt’s doorstep and he’s trying very much not to have a heart failure fifteen minutes before their date. His finger hovers over the doorbell. Which, he knows, is stupid because they’re best friends and have been best friends since the sandbox and the Bodts pretty much accept him as their own next of kin.

Weird, since, they’re not dating. 

Oh boy the Bodts had a  _hoot_ about that. 

"I knew it!" Marco’s mom had exclaimed before sticking out her hand. "You owe  _me_ $20, honey.”

Yeah, you know it’s bad when the  _parents_ bet on how long it takes for you and their son to get together. Really bad.

But it made things easier. Like cuddling with Marco on their couch in the basement watching reruns of the Walking Dead. Or pretending to be sneaky with kisses at the bottom of the stairwell or in small corners when, really, there was no need for the secrecy. 

"It’s the principle of the thing," Marco had whispered against Jean’s lips with a smile on his face before he kissed him  _over and over_ again. _  
_

Oh fun times.

Back to the main problem at hand, though. Jean’s nerves. They were popping off like rockets and it was kind of annoying because if Jean could climb the Bodt’s roof to slip in through Marco’s windows on nights when he felt like being daring, he should be able to ring a damn doorbell without the urge to throw up. 

"Suck it up, Jean. You’re a  _man._ You are a grown ass man—” he’s 17 folks “—and you will be ringing this doorbell ri—” The door opened, revealing a very amused Marco Bodt standing at his doorstep. 

"Hey there, Stranger." Marco doesn’t even bother to hide the amusement in his voice. Nervous Jean was  _always_ hilarious to watch. 

Jean sighed, smiling sheepishly. “How long were you watching me mentally freak out?”

Marco shrugs, “How long were you standing there not moving? Two hours?”

"Asshole," Jean playfully punched Marco on the shoulder. Marco laughed and captured Jean’s hand in his. He mouthed the word  _'caught'_ before turning back to tell his parents that he was leaving for the night. Marco closed the door behind him and he was probably two feet away from the house before Jean pulled him in the belt loops and kissed him.

In his front yard.

Marco let out a pleased moan, absently licking at the bottom of Jean’s tongue after they broke apart. Jean’s cheeks were a shiny red, his lips slightly swollen. Marco’s heart stuttered. Good God it was so  _unfair_ how handsome Jean was. 

"What was that for?" Marco asks playfully, his fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of Jean’s neck.

Jean shrugs, smiling wryly. “Wanted to kiss you. So I did. Want to kiss you again,” so he did. And it was slow and sweet, no rush, nothing frantic. They were just enjoying one another and  _being_ together. 

"If you keep doing that, we won’t ever make it in time for the movie. And I  _want_ to see Dracula.” 

Jean scoffed. “Do you think we’ll actually be watching the movie?”

"No. But we at least have to hold out until the end of Frankenstein tonight."

"That’s the third movie!"

"You can’t hold out that long?" Marco asked innocently. 

Jean snarled and Marco laughed. He was only joking but oh my, getting Jean’s chains all rattled was always a fun pastime. “Come on, you goob. Let’s get going before my parents turn on the sprinklers.”  _  
_

* * *

 

Jean was never really a horror enthusiast. Gore and supernatural—that was more of Marco’s thing. Such a fact normally surprised the shit out of people first getting to know the freckled teen. No one who was that innocent and sweet should be able to sit through slasher flick and slasher flick without cringing or batting an eye or crying.

Jean thought it was  _hilarious_ honestly, because Marco got  _excited_ with all the blood and gore and generally asked Jean his opinion on who would die next. 

That’s how they got into most of their fights. Marco would think Jean’s reason is half-assed and then tell him why  _another_ character’s going to die and why  _their death_ makes more sense.

Then they look at each other and laugh because, really, no one’s death makes sense in cheesy slasher flicks. 

But Jean has to admit, it’s a pleasure to watch movies with Marco. Especially movies Marco  _likes_ because his eyes were bright, full of wonder. And whenever he gets excited he’ll move forward in his seat or squeeze Jean’s hand a little tighter. And he’s just  _so fucking cute_ Jean doesn’t know why he hasn’t exploded yet from the adorable overload. 

To his surprise, he hadn’t fallen asleep through Dracula. But now some Alfred Hitchcock movie was playing—one that he didn’t know the title of—and his interest was waning.

Which was bad because it meant his interest was turning on Marco.

How he breathed and how he looked in that form-fitting shirt and how he  _looked_ at Jean every once in a while with a knowing gleam in his eyes. 

Marco smiled, bringing Jean’s hands up to his lips. “Something on your mind?”

"You," Jean rasped because dammit he wasn’t going to lie that being in a tiny space with Marco was driving him insane. 

There’s a hunger in Marco’s eyes that probably mirrored the hunger welling up in Jean’s stomach. A rush of heat and a  _dying_ need to touch and touch and touch. 

"I knew we wouldn’t be able to hold out," Marco chuckles, his face growing closer and closer to to Jean’s. 

"If you really thought that I’m a little concerned," Jean chuckled. Then their lips touched and words transformed into desperate, needy moans. The movie was long forgotten, and the boys were in their own world. Hands feeling and grasping and itching to get under skin. Jean’s fingers slipped under Marco’s shirt, feeling the lean muscles. Fingernails scraped against freckled skin and Marco moaned into his mouth.

Flat out  _moaned_. The sound went straight to Jean’s dick. _  
_

"Backseat," Marco managed to choke out with Jean’s mouth on his throat, trying it’s very best to leave hickeys. 

"Backseat," Jean agreed, and shuffled into the backseat with Marco following him. Jean laid, flat on this back, with Marco straddling his hips and his fingers splayed against his chest. Marco gazed down, eyes half-lidded, dragging one lazy finger down Jean’s chest. Jean shivered. 

"Are we about to have public sex right now?" Marco asked. 

"Quite possibly, yes."

"Oh. Well I guess I can cross that off my bucket list then." Then his voice dropped to a whisper, right by Jean’s ear, and Jean had to bite his lower lip in order to keep back the moan that threatened to rip it’s way out of his throat. "What if we get  _caught_?”

Another shiver danced down Jean’s spine. His hands slipped down between their bodies, palming Marco’s half-hard dick through the front of his pants. “Then let us see. I want them to know that… that you’re mine.” Jean whispered, feeling a horrible blush on his cheeks.

Marco was blushing too, his eyes filled with warmth and love and  _so much need._ Magnetism dragged their lips together. A dirty, sloppy kiss that involved a lot of tongues and teeth and moaning. Jean’s hand was still palming Marco’s dick, and he could feel his own erection strain against his pants. 

Marco moaned, pulling back long enough to pepper kisses all over Jean’s collarbone and neck. Then his hand went down, far down, right to Jean’s erection. He unzipped Jean’s pants and took Jean’s shaft with his hand, stroking Jean through his underwear.

Jean threw his head back, hitting the door in the process but he didn’t care. It was just  _so damn good_. Fuck the tight space and their limited ability to touch, he was going to get as much of Marco as he could. He pulled Marco down for another sloppy kiss, his hand slipping into Marco’s jeans and mirroring the freckled teen’s actions. 

Marco bucked into his hand, back arching, groans tumbling out of his lips. They stroked each other haphazardly, hot breaths mingling in the air and tongues touching. Then, Marco released his hand and started rutting against Jean’s dick. The friction felt  _so good._ Jean’s hands gripped Marco’s waist, bucking up to meet Marco’s thrusts.

From above, Marco’s face was lit in shadows, a part of it being shown from the light shining off the movie screen. His head was thrown back in pleasure, his mouth opening in closing in small ‘O’s’ and his face flushed red. He moaned Jean’s name like a sweet mantra and Jean felt like he was about to lose it. 

"Jean, ah,  _Jean_.” Precome stained the front of Marco’s underwear. He was close to falling off the age. So  _close._ His thrusts became more frantic, his kisses even sloppier. 

Jean nibbled and sucked on the crook of Marco’s neck, grinding fast and hard against Marco. “Come for me, baby.” He moaned, thrusting wildly. “I wanna see your face when you do. Come on.” He urged.

And really, that’s all it took. Marco’s back arched, his fingers digging into the seat below him as he came in his pants—hard. He moaned watonly, hips riding out his orgasm, and Jean’s name tumbling out of his lips in messy, broken pants.

Jean came shortly after, memorized by the look of pure bliss on Marco’s face as he came. He groaned low, deep in his throat, as his orgasm hit. They both panted, extremely flushed and satisfied, both wearing equally smug grins.

Then a knock tapped against his window, and a voice said, “You damn kids! This is a _public_ space! Save the fucking for your house!” And then he was gone.

Marco and Jean looked at each other for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter, foreheads pressed together and pants sticky with cum.

"That was… fun." Jean said after his laughter calmed down.

"Much fun," Marco agreed. He smiled something sinister, "We should do that more often… tomorrow? They’re showing rom-coms. You _love_ rom-coms.”

"I _hate_ rom-coms.”

"I know."

Jean snorted. “Fine. Fine. but next time I’m wearing basketball shorts. Easier to take off.” He finished with a blush.

"Planning ahead," Marco chuckled, kissing Jean’s forehead. "I like that."

"So… tomorrow night?" Jean asked with a cock of the eyebrow.

Marco smiled nodded. “It’s a date.” 


End file.
